


The Exit Strategy

by ObsessedtwibrarianOTB



Category: Original Work
Genre: Assisted Suicide, Death, Flash Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 03:33:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7668514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsessedtwibrarianOTB/pseuds/ObsessedtwibrarianOTB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Goodbye is a person's privilege and they should choose when to say it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Exit Strategy

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Goodbye. 
> 
> Word count: 346

_****ATTENTION AUTHORS! ~ IF YOU NEED ARTWORK FOR YOUR STORIES, SEE MY PROFILE FOR MORE INFORMATION:**_   [Obsessedtwibrarian(OTB)](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsessedtwibrarianOTB/profile)

 **Story banner created by me, using Photoshop CC 2015.**  

 

It’s dark here, but darkness is my choice. I refuse to open my eyes to the light, even though they try to force me to. Short of pinning my eyelids open with needles, they have no way of compelling me to look at them. I refuse. It hurts too much to see what I have lost. 

Pain has become my lover, and I have no other option but to embrace him, to establish some sort of codependent relationship with the bastard, because fighting him only makes me feel even more helpless than I already am. His hands caress me everywhere; there is no part of me that hasn’t felt his lustful touch. I loathe him. 

Behind closed lids I hear them talking—muffled voices softly discussing what to do with me. They think I can’t hear them. _Just finish it already!_ I yearn to scream my rage at them, to expose them for the heartless, cruel people they really are, but my body betrays me. _Traitor!_ I cannot speak. 

Cold metal touches my lips and I know in an instant what it is. I will _not_ allow them to torture me any longer, to prolong my hellish existence for their own selfish reasons. My mouth is the only part of me that obeys my will, so I squeeze my lips together in a determined line and refuse them. 

“She won’t eat.” 

They sound sad, frustrated, disappointed that I won’t go along with their twisted plans to prolong the workings of my spent body, just so they can torture it some more. _Why are you doing this to me??_ Goodbye should not take this long. _  
_

I hear more conversation, distant, like co-conspirators planning their next move. Soon, their voices rise, and I hear a snippet of a sentence. 

“…didn’t want this!” His voice is soft, but angry and insistent. “She wrote it down and had it notorized!” 

I smile inside and, for the first time in a long while, I turn my back to my pain. My scorned lover withdraws his hand in shock. No longer will I be his helpless victim; no longer will I be his nonconsensual lover. My son remembers our conversation. He will be my champion. He will ensure my plans are carried out, that my exit strategy will be put in motion. 

The greatest gift: to die with dignity. 

_Goodbye._

 


End file.
